


The Wrong Bus

by edibleflowers



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:13:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joey gets on the wrong bus by mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrong Bus

Joey's just working on getting comfortable in his bunk when his cellphone goes off. He grabs it out of the wall pocket, grinning when he sees the number on the display, and answers it. "Yeah?"

"Dude, the fuck are you doing on that bus?" Justin grumbles. Joey laughs a little, tugging the bunk's curtain firmly shut and then laying back, his free arm curled behind his head.

"Sorry, man," he says. "Randy was shovin' me at a bus, I didn't have time to choose."

"Yeah, well," and Justin's heavy sigh makes Joey smile. "Still sucks."

"I know, and shit -- I asked, we can't even stop for at least two hours." Joey hates having to get on the bus right after shows; he prefers relaxing in a hotel room afterwards, taking a real shower in a stall that isn't a foot wide, and then stretching out in a big, comfortable bed as opposed to the cramped bunk he's now in.

"Fuck," Justin mutters.

"Not like we'd be able to do anything anyway," he points out, softly, and hears his boyfriend's low chuckle.

"Yeah, but, you know, enough room to cuddle." Justin shifts; Joey hears fabric moving, rustling, and sucks in a breath as he pictures the sight. Justin's probably wearing nothing but boxers, his skin clean and smooth after a hasty shower in the bus's tiny bathroom. Joey inhales, smells Justin on his pillow. It sends a thrill of arousal through him.

"It's OK," Joey says almost absently. "Couple hours, we'll stop, C and I will switch."

Justin's voice is flavored with humor. "And what's on your mind, huh?"

"Nothin'," Joey laughs, but Justin's insistent, and Joey finally admits, "I was thinkin' about how we wouldn't be able to stick to cuddling, is all."

"And that'd be a bad thing how?" Justin's voice is a low, velvety purr, and Joey realizes he's starting to feel a little lightheaded. "I mean, sure, not a lot of room, but we've worked that out before."

"True," Joey agrees, his own voice almost unconsciously lowering in response. "I'd rather be in a bed, though, have room to stretch out and do what I want to you."

"Me, too," Justin mutters. "Bed's best, but -- God, anywhere I can get you, anytime. I'd do damage to someone right now just to get my hands on you."

Joey bites back a whimper, because Justin's voice is rolling straight through him now, so full of intent and purpose, and his cock is stiff in his sweatpants. "Me too," he manages. "This -- Jesus, J, you should see what you're doing to me."

"Yeah?" Justin says eagerly. "What am I doin' to you, huh?"

The avidity makes him shiver a little, and he murmurs, "Got me hard already, baby. How about you?"

"You know it," Justin breathes. Joey hears a soft shifting sound, fabric murmuring against fabric. "Wish you were over here, want to feel you touching me, your hands on me."

In any other circumstance it would sound corny, but right now Justin's words go straight to Joey's groin, pulsing hot arousal like a livewire. He pushes his sweats down, awkwardly shoving them over his hips, until his erection bobs freely against a broad thigh. "Want to," he mutters. "Want to push you down, want to kiss you, God, 'til I can't breathe, and then slide down between your legs and suck you, make you scream."

"God, you always do," Justin pants. "Your mouth -- fuck, what you do to me, Joe, you don't even know."

"Love it, man, fucking love going down on you." Joey shifts the cellphone, cinching it between his ear and his shoulder, and both hands slip to his urgent erection; he groans faintly into the phone as he jacks himself, a slow steady rhythm. "I'd do it all day if I could, love the way your cock feels in my mouth, how you taste when you come."

"Jesus," and Justin sounds as ragged as Joey feels. "Joe, you playin' with yourself, man?"

"'Course." Joey laughs a little at that, breathily. "Aren't you?"

Justin's responsive chuckle is low and rich, a velvet ripple down Joey's back. "Fuck, yeah. I just -- thinkin' about you doin' that, it's so fuckin' hot."

"Yeah?" Joey grins. "Love watchin' you get yourself off too."

"You sure watch me enough," Justin agrees, a smile in his voice. "Rather have you touchin' me, though, hell of a lot more fun."

Joey makes a little noise at that, swallowing to try to keep his voice down; the last thing he wants is for Lance to know what he's doing -- he'd never hear the end of it. "Well, shit, yeah," he breathes. "Rather be fucking you, or have you inside me, any day."

"God." Justin's voice is strangled now, slightly jerky. Joey imagines Justin's fist working in rapid slides, up and down a stiff shaft, and a rush of heat shoots through him. "God, Joey, I w-want that, want you inside me, filling me up, you always feel so fucking good when you -- that first time, pushing in, Christ, so good."

Joey's own hand is moving faster, pumping his cock, the skin gliding under his hand; he bites back a moan, growls low instead. "If I could, J, right now -- I'd fuck you so hard you couldn't walk. Jesus, just want to sink into you, bury myself in you--"

"God-- Joey," and Justin's panting is shallow, thready. "Need you, fuck, need you to fuck me."

"When we change buses," Joey rasps, fist blurring now. "Gonna, gonna fuck you, J, don't care who hears us--"

"Oh-- oh, Jesus," Justin groans, probably loud enough for Chris and JC to hear, but right now Joey couldn't give a fuck. "Coming, coming, Joe!"

It's the imagined visual of Justin bringing himself to orgasm that does it for Joey: Justin's beautiful in his climax, as in so many things, and his head arches back into the pillow, cock jerking, pulsing in his elegant fingers, ejaculate spattering his abdomen, the strong planes of his chest. Joey closes his eyes, thrusts up into his hand, and lets it roll over him, through him, a wave of sensation flowing from head to toe and leaving him gasping for air.

"You there?" he hears Justin say, a few moments later. He manages a weak laugh.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. God."

"I know." Justin sounds lazy and languid, as he always is in the aftermath. "Jesus, you don't even have to be touching me sometimes."

Joey chuckles softly, reaching into the bunk's corner for a discarded t-shirt; he wipes it over his stomach, cleaning up the sticky, cooling spunk. "Yeah. Me, too, man. Still rather be touching you, though."

"Duh." Justin laughs. "How long 'til the buses stop?"

Joey glances at his watch. "Hour and a half, about," he replies, rolling to his side and covering his mouth in a vain attempt to suppress a yawn.

"'Kay." Justin yawns, too, Joey can hear the deep inhalation, slow release of breath. It's a comforting, sleepy sound, dozy and soft. Joey loves the little sounds Justin makes, his soft tired whimpers, wordlless notes that underscore whatever he's doing. "Gonna, gonna grab a nap an' recharge."

"Sounds good, man." Exhaustion is already taking a firm hold on his brain and he knows he'll be out as soon as he shuts the phone off. "See you in a few. Love you, baby."

"Love you, too," Justin whispers, voice rich and drowsy, and then the connection is broken. Joey thumbs his own phone off, tossing it into the corner, and curls around his Justin-scented pillow, sinking into welcome sleep.


End file.
